Perfect Work

A poem by Joseph Horatio Chant

An artist skilled beyond the sons of men
With pleasure scanned the pictures on the wall,
Rare works of art, each one pronounced a gem,
The product of his hand, both great and small;
Each filled its place in the designer's plan;
Conceived in full before the work began.

Pleased was the artist with results as shown;
But his ideal was not as yet attained;
It needed this, as palace needs a throne,
But throne a king--then is perfection gained,
When his great masterpiece hangs in its place,
And the great artist looks in his own face.

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